The Fathers
by LPP
Summary: An imense project that will detail the events of the whole Soul series, in accuracy with history and my imagination. Delays all over the place, title change, will have chapter 4 eventually!
1. Introduction

Welcome, soul, to my first-ever fanfic. Within, you will find the kind of high-quality writing that is rare on this website, which is my excuse for probably not being able to post very often. As the author of a Soul Calibur fic, this story will understandably and unquestionably have VIOLENCE. Not often blood-and-gore violence, seeing as how so few characters actually die in these games, but there will be VIOLENCE. There will also be questionable LANGUAGE used at times, often in conjunction with the VIOLENCE, as some people cry out when they are harmed. There may also be SEXUAL THEMES, which include descriptions of nudity and sexual feelings that parents don't want their kids to see. For _really _persnickety people, there will definitely be DRAMATIC THEMES and DISTURBING IMAGES, though there are no actual pictures. Finally, for those reeeeeeeeally strange types, there are ANTI-RELIGIOUS THEMES, including occult practices, references to witchcraft and visits to Hell. While Hell is part of a religion, it can be seen as anti-religious by some stra-diddly-ange Flandersians. Oh, and for that matter, I do not own any of the characters from Soul Edge, Soul Calibur, Soul Calibur II, or the Simpsons. Any other characters I may introduce belong to me, which include characters that are spoken of in the games but are never named. Andditionaly, while the storyline belongs to Namco, this story beongs to me. They can buy it if they want, but not until I'm done. Don't worry, I will NEVER do anything this lengthy at the start of a chapter again, I'll just write a quick blurb about how I don't own anything and possibly include some jokes and/or commentary. This is just for the purposes of introducing my story, although... I have not actually done so yet. Correction... This is for the purposes of introducing the INTRODUCTION of the story. Now for the beginning of the Ultimate Tale of Souls and Swords... Yeah, you read it as the title, so I'll stop blabbing. Let's go!

Transcending History, and The World,

A Tale of Souls and Swords,

Eternally Retold.

Now Begins one such New Tale,

Of Pirates and Knights,

Ninja and Samurai,

Of Warriors and Monsters

And of Extraordinary Feats

Accomplished by True Heroes...

This is Their Tale:


	2. Prologue

Just a note that I own all the characters I make up and no others. Also, thanks to YF-21 for correcting my Money Pit error. Vercci would have needed a lot of men to dig that baby... Perhaps if he had given Voldo Knuckle's Shovel Claws, then LF-HT B B B millions of times... Oh well, enjoy the story. This is the beginning of Rock's tale:

"Mary! Where is she? Mary! Mary!"

"I'm here, William! What is wrong?"

"Mary!" William repeated, dashing into their room at the top of the stairs. His clothes were drenched with perspiration and were clinging to him uncomfortably. His hair, too, was plastered to his head from sweat. Only shallow gasps came from his chest, which was heaving dramatically up and down, and his face was flushed from exertion. Mary would have thought he had been running from bandits if she had not seen his joyous expression.

She rose, stepping away from the bed, and gazed at her husband curiously. "Dear, are you all right? Did business go well today? You look terrible, why were you running?" He continued to smile widely.

"I rode ahead to tell you, Mary," he took her white hands into his large, browned ones. In his excitement, they were trembling. "I could not wait, I ran through the lobby, I-"

"Shush, William, our son is trying to sleep!" Mary pulled him away from the door and closed it. "And you know what a terrible spy he is! Now, tell me what happened, quietly."

"Fine, quietly it is. But I must warn you, your excitement may prompt noise on your part as well!"

"Why, husband!" Mary exclaimed, quietly of course. She had never seen him so happy before. "What could it be? Certainly not-"

William bent down, for he was considerably taller than she, and whispered a few words in his wife's ear.

"They're willing to sell!" Mary clapped her hands to her mouth to suppress a squeal of delight. Seeing her reaction, William's grin broadened further.

"Yes, my love," he cried, "The museum's seen fit to be rid of them!" He embraced his wife in a bear hug, and then began dancing around the room and singing at the top of his voice. Mary was so in shock at their good fortune, she quite forgot about letting sleep her son next door. It was a few moments before she recovered herself and shushed her husband.

The boy next door, who was now wide awake, pressed his ear to the wall to better hear the conversation.

William, meantime, had sat down on the bed and pulled out his pipe. He did not light it, however, and simply stuck it in his mouth as Mary relaxed next to him. She now had a smile as big as her husband's, and was equally overjoyed.

"I assume you bought it," she asked William jokingly. He snorted.

"Of course I did! I didn't want some other bloody merchant getting them first. The museum only decided just today to unload the things, and I thought I would capitalize on the offer. The curator told me I would get the best deal if I bought them now, that if I waited there would be competing offers, all that rubbish. He seemed to want to get rid of the bloody things fast. He was acting like one of those street merchants, with those goods that are about to go off... Do you remember that one man with the fish and the bananas-"

"So, dear," Mary interrupted him. William had a great love of stories, and tended to begin telling them at the most inappropriate times. "There was no competition for the artifacts... Artifact... What would you call it?"

"No, there were no other buyers," William answered, unfazed by the interruption. He paused to retrieve his matchbox from a coat pocket. "But only because they all gave up trying to get it. I told you, the museum only offered it today, and I was the only man there. I'm sure that there would have been much competition had anyone else known about it. Anyone who knows the legend would surely be interested, if they could afford it." His excitement seemed to die, and he turned his face away from his wife to light his pipe.

"How much was it, William?" Mary took his hand and held it in her lap. She gazed at him, now concerned. He did not answer right away, but let out a long puff from his pipe. A small cloud of smoke came from the end, and he tilted his head to watch its progress to the ceiling. His face was now quite serious.

"We- we'll get it all back when we sell it," William said softly, turning his gaze to the floor.

The boy next door, struggling to hear his parents' lowered voices, moved away from the wall and pulled on a nightshirt. He opened his door, and walked out to stand in front of the room to the right of his. Putting his ear to the keyhole, he was relieved to hear that he had not missed anything.

Mary squeezed her husband's hand. "And you do already have a buyer," she inquired breathlessly.

"Yes," William said shortly.

"Who? Please comfort me, William!"

"He is a very, very rich man," he said, letting another cloud of smoke escape from his pipe. "An Italian by the name of Vercci. He is a millionaire, Mary, and is an adamant collector of ancient weapons. His agent told me Vercci would pay twice what they are worth if I could bring them to him. I already told you when we first saw them in the museum, I said 'Those swords could make us rich,' because I knew this Vercci wanted them. His agent told me, 'Bring Soul Edge to Vercci and he will be most pleased,' and I am bringing him Soul Edge. Oh, please, Mary, dearest, don't fret!" William put his arms around his wife, and they embraced at the foot of the bed.

Mary stood up after a short time, and walked to stand by the door. She sighed, and crossed her arms over her stomach. "I'm all right." William watched her for a short while, as if to make sure.

Mary broke the silence. "What is this Vercci's trade?" She did not really care how the Italian man got his fortune, but her husband would enjoy telling her. William shifted himself on the bed, and puffed from his pipe again.

"Well, I believe he is an arms dealer of sorts. Makes sense he collects old ones, eh? Anything he doesn't sell before something better comes out, he keeps!" He chuckled at his own joke. "But really has an extensive hoard, even after he lost most of his riches when Spain invaded Italy. His mansion was looted and burned to the ground. He wasn't there, he was off in a ship looking for Soul Edge! I suppose now it's a sort of grudge, that's why he wants it so badly. Anyways, Vercci's still a millionaire, even when he lost everything. It's already legend in the underworld, thieves have been trying to find his treasure for years. They say he dug a deep pit, 500 metres perhaps, on an island in the Mediterranean, and hid what he had left in there. No one that has gone in has ever returned, they say. Can't imagine how he found guards strong enough to hold off so many plunderers. Or, for that matter, how he found any that wouldn't join them!"

William laughed again, a deep booming laugh that made his son clamp his hands on his ears. Mary turned to him quickly, but not to remind him to be quiet.

"And for that matter," she had turned very pale, "who's guarding our investment?"

The boy's heart leapt when he heard his father's pipe hit the floor. He scampered into his room just as his parents' door flew open, and William crashed out shouting. "Damn them if they did! If those bastards ran off... Damn them if it's gone!"

As he heard William's feet crashed down the stairs, the boy opened his door a crack to watch for his mother. He saw her stride quickly in her husband's wake, closing the door firmly behind her. Waiting for the sound of her footsteps to fade, he creeped downstairs after her to eavesdrop further.

"I told you specifically- And then you- You weren't supposed to open the damn- I told you-" The boy heard his father's voice, still shaking the hotel. Thankfully, there were no other guests: not many want to visit Cairo in the hot summer. Mary often said William's voice could wake the dead when he was upset.

Peering around one of the stair banisters, the boy looked to see his father shouting at one of his native servants, who stood with an expression of defiance on his face. Around them stood the other servants, who looking utterly terrified, his mother, who looked very cross a his father, the hotel manager, who was hurriedly translating English to Arabic, and a number of bystanders that happened to be around in the middle of the night.

"William," Mary began, touching his arm gently, but he shook her off.

"You directly disobeyed me! You endangered our investment! You remember exactly what I told you, and yet you did not heed me! Why? What can you say for yourself?" He continued to shout at the Egyptian man, who glared angrily at William while listening to the manager's translation. When the manager finished, the man spoke in Arabic to him.

"He says," the manager began to William, "That while he did it, he..." He trailed off, evidently confused by what the man was saying. "While he did it, he did not do it."

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" William bellowed.

The manager and the servant spoke again, then the manager turned to face William.

"He elaborates that his hands were the ones that did it, but his will was not behind the act." The manager took a step back as William tensed for another shout. "I have no idea what he means, sir, please do not shout! He accepts full responsibility for what his hands did wrong, but he wishes you to know that he would never disobey a fine man such as yourself. Please do not shout again, sir." And with that he quickly scurried back to his office and closed the door.

William looked at the servant, still angry, but with a softer gaze. The servant looked back at him, as defiant as before.

"What is your name?" William asked the man.

"It is Ahmed, sir," he said in hesitant English. "I will close it now."

Ahmed walked to the entrance of the hotel, and the boy had to lean far to the side to watch what he was doing. He had not seen the two fairly large crates sitting there. One had its top removed, revealing a long bundle sitting on top of packing material. Ahmed covered the top with the lid, and began nailing it back onto the box. The boy noticed that the lid seemed to be stained over where the bundle was underneath.

"We will leave tomorrow night," William said to his wife, ushering the servants to leave, "To prevent any more incidents like this." Mary no longer looked cross, but now seemed subdued.

"So, the swords are truly not just a story, are they William?"

"It seems they are not, Mary."

"Then, is it really safe to have them near Nathaniel?" she asked her husband. "He's so curious, and so young, it might-"

"I have no fear of it harming our boy," William said, "He is strong and knows when he must mind us. He's as sturdy as a Rock, I'm sure his mind is as well. We'll tell him about the swords, but not everything about them, enough to appease his nature, but not enough to scare him. The safest thing is to not have any illusions about their capabilities."

Mary sighed, and embraced her husband once more. "I'm still frightened."

William put his arm over her shoulder. "I don't think it would be safe not to be." Across the room, he watched Ahmed place the last nail into the lid. The man glared back at William, and stacked the crates on top of another. He began to lift them up, but William called to him. "Have some other hands take care of those, Ahmed."

Ahmed scowled, and shouted in Arabic to the room the other servants had retreated to. Two men walked out, and picked up the crates. The Arabs began carrying them to the stairs, to place them with the other luggage. The boy, Nathaniel, nicknamed Rock, knew it was time to head back to his room. Just before they reached the bottom landing, he slinked through his door and lay down on the bed.


	3. A Pirate's Life

All are MINE! MINE! 'Cept Cervantes and Soul Edge. Wish I owned Cervantes, though, he's really cool. BT AB! Ha-ha-hah! Take this! This is my third and semi-final revision to this chapter, so I will start on chapter four now. More of everyone's favorite possessed blood-thirsty undead dread pirate! And then... well, I haven't decided yet. Any suggestions? If anyone would like to correct me on my history facts at any point, please me know. Ok, here we go!

"_All of us have mortal bodies, composed of perishable matter, but the soul lives forever: it is a portion of the Deity housed in our bodies._"

-Flavius Josephus

There is a group of small islands in the Atlantic Ocean, miles from any other significant land mass. Not many know of these island's existence, either because they have not traveled in that remote part of the ocean or they have simply passed them by, and they are thus unmapped. For those that happen find the unexpected land, they dare not attempt to come close to the reefs or the steep cliffs lest the rough surf dash their ships upon the rocks. However, there are a few who know of the secret cove on one of those islands. A small gap between the water and the stone on one side of the center island leads to a spacious cave, which has a supply of fresh water and tropical fruit. Here, a pirate community thrived.

Many years before this story begun, a band of Spanish smugglers fleeing from a British warship sought refuge in these islands. The skilled Spanish sailors discovered the cavern, and steered their speedy ship inside where they hid. The Britons, determined to confiscate the cargo of rum they had been tracking for months, tried to follow the smaller ship, but crashed against the mouth of the cave and sank. Taking the wreckage from the other ship, the Spaniards built a storehouse for the rum that later became the most popular drink at the tavern _The Black Dog_. Rumors broke out in the pirate community, and soon all sorts of criminals and scoundrels came to the nameless island to escape capture. Some used it as a place to hide, others hid their treasures there as the first Spaniards did, and still others settled down and built shops, trading posts, inns, bars, and various other businesses that kept the haven sustainable. There was a consistent flow of goods in and out of the islands, most of them illegal, that made the pirate town thrive. And yet no outsider knew it even existed.

At the time this tale of souls and swords starts, there was a ship anchored at the dock of the port named the _Adrian_. The _Adrian_ was a well-known ship within and without the pirate community, respected and feared by all men that knew it. Her captain, Cervantes De Leon, was the cause of this, being a very imposing man. His hair was a light brown, bleached from years in the sun, and hung loosely over his handsome face. His clothes were a sign of his stolen wealth, though he did not wear extravagant shirts and jewels. The buttons of his durable grey coat were rimmed with gold, and over it he wore masterfully made lightweight armor. He also wore impact guards on his shoulders, forearms, and legs, styled with expensive fabric. His boots kept him warm in the coldest winter storm, and his gloves could stay strong under the pressure of a sword. When at sea, he wore a black tri-pointed captain's hat that he stole from the corpse of an officer he slaughtered. One could say that was Cervantes' most distinguishing feature, aside from his piercing blue eyes. His manner toward others was cold and abrasive, though he became very fierce toward his crew if they lagged in action. They held Cervantes in high esteem for his ability to give orders, and never complained to him about his demands. They had faith that their clever captain always had the ship's and the crew's best interest at heart, despite his occasional cruel words and actions, for he was the most prestigious pirate of his time.

One cause of his great reputation was his success at capturing the British ship _The Grey Ghost_. The scout ship, which had been pestering pirate activity in the Mediterranean, had one day come very close to escaping after discovering the pirate's nest. The _Adrian_ chased _The Grey Ghost_ almost to the British fleet, where it would be safe, when suddenly Cervantes brought his ship next to the other and demanded they surrender. After the soldiers refused his demand and shot at him, the fierce buccaneer leapt across to their ship and killed every man aboard single-handedly. His crew later said his eyes were filled with a bloodlust that could not be quelled. They had followed him onto the ship, prepared to fight, but their captain left none standing in his wake. When Cervantes returned to the cove holding the other commander's blood-stained uniform over the bow of _The Grey Ghost_, the pirates knew he was certainly the most powerful of them all.

Cervantes mulled over this memory several more times in his head. "The most powerful..." he murmured to himself, taking another gulp from his tin cup. If I am the most powerful, he thought, then why do I not feel strong? Why, if I am as insignificant as all these other men, do they fear me and adore me, as though I were a god to be worshiped? I am mortal, like themselves, made of flesh and blood. I have eyes no sharper than theirs, ears no more finely tuned, and arms no stronger.

Well, he thought, as he glanced at his sun-tanned forearms, which had attractively defined muscles from years working on ships. Perhaps I am a superior human to those weaklings, but I am still...

"You have a message, captain."

"Still just..." Cervantes came out from his meditation, his thoughts fading back into darkness.

"Come again, captain?" said the barkeeper.

"Never mind," growled Cervantes, draining his cup and slamming it onto the table. He did not like to be interrupted while he was thinking. "Bring me more rum."

"Certainly, _senor_," said the barkeeper, pouring more of the smuggler's drink from his bottomless jug. "And you have a message from the captain of that ship. Would you like someone to receive it for you?"

Cervantes felt a cold chill travel down his back, one of excited anticipation. This is it, he thought, over and over. His heartbeat increased as he turned his gaze to the window of _The Black Dog_. He saw what he was hoping, what he was dreading. _Ocean Runner_, the ship that had once been named _The Grey Ghost_, sat at the dock opposite the _Adrian_. One man stood in between the two ships, unmoving, with his hands in the pockets of his heavy coat.

"No," Cervantes told the waiting barkeeper, not moving his eyes from the man outside. "No, I'll... I'll receive it myself..." His voice trailed off as he stood and picked up his cutlass and captain's hat. He placed some gold on the table, which the barkeeper swiped up quickly.

"Have a pleasant night then, captain," he said as he walked back to the bar. Cervantes didn't hear him, or he didn't care. Adopting his usual lazy, unconcerned stride, he walked out from the tavern and turned for the dock. He passed an old fisherman, carrying his net and gear to his small vessel for his evening catch. The man greeted the captain, but, again, Cervantes seemed not to hear. Taking the steps down to the waterfront three at a time, he approached the man on the dock. He had not moved since Cervantes had left _The Black Dog_, but continued to shelter himself from the wind with his coat. It may have been summer, but light ocean breezes became freezing gusts when they whistled through the mouth of the cave.

"Tell me," Cervantes breathed, placing his hand firmly on the other man's shoulder. "Where are they?"

The man, who seemed to be staring at the ground from under his hood, murmured something inaudible.

"What?" Cervantes felt his hand fall to his side, as the man turned to face the _Adrian_. He lifted his head slightly, surveying the ship absently.

"I am sorry, captain, but I thought I could... I tried to... I realize I shouldn't have... They know they are being followed..."

Cervantes' lips tightened in rage. "What did you do, Tulio?"

Only a whisper came from him. "I thought it would be simple, to intercept them before they reached Alexandria, and then bring it to you, but they were ready, they got away, and now they are making sure they are not followed... I am very sorry."

Tulio fell silent, bowing his head again. Cervantes thought quickly.

"Where are they now?"

"Near here. We waited for them off the coast of Spain, they changed direction when they saw us. They decided to go further into open ocean to avoid-"

Cervantes suddenly ran forward, roaring, and lunged with his cutlass. With a startled cry, Tulio fell to the side, narrowly missing the vertical chop. He pulled a short, thin sword, almost a knife, from within his coat, and rose into a fighting stance. "I thought we had a deal, De Leon!"

Turning to face his opponent, Cervantes curled his lips into a sneer. "Our deal, _senor_, was for you to give me the information I needed in exchange for a ship. You have a ship, I know what I need to. The deal is complete." Bringing his jeweled cutlass back into a ready position, he stepped toward Tulio menacingly

Clearly frightened, but not backing down, the smaller man tightened his grip on his weapon. "So you intended to do this from the start! Kill me?"

Bringing his blade over his head, Cervantes brought it down in another powerful strike. Tulio easily dodged the attack, but Cervantes brought his boot around in a roundhouse that sent the other man sliding across the wet wood. The fisherman, who was sitting in his boat a short ways from the battlers, watched the fight with some interest. The residents at the pirate town often dueled to the death over small disputes. Tulio's crew, who had been rolling the sails of the _Ocean Runner_, gathered at the side of the ship when they heard their captain's shout of pain. They began shouting support, as Tulio attempted to recover from the blow.

"You- bastard," he gasped, winded by the kick. He clutched his sides, and raised his sword as he stumbled forward. Cervantes snorted with disgust at the man's pathetic effort. He batted Tulio's weapon out of his hand with little effort, and gripped his neck. Tulio gagged and clawed at the hand choking him.

"How dare you," Cervantes spat, then lowered his voice so that only Tulio could hear. "I gave you a task, and you failed, again. I see now it was a mistake to trust a man who can barely keep his ship afloat at port, much less obey orders. If this is what you do with your chance at redemption," He raised his voice so that all bystanders could hear now, including his own crew aboard the _Adrian_, "then you do not deserve to live!"

Cervantes lifted the writhing Tulio over his head, and placed the cutlass' tip against his chest. "But really," Cervantes lowered his voice again, smiling cruelly, "I did not want to kill you. In fact, I would rather you be alive to command that fine ship under my sail than be dead at the bottom of the sea. But you must know why." The smile faded from his face as he glared at Tulio. The other man suddenly understood Cervantes' intent.

"But- you can't!" he managed to gasp. "You said- the Italian!" But Cervantes squeezed his neck harder, stopping all speech. Tears fell from Tulio's eyes, and he ceased struggling against his captor's grip. The arm holding him in the air began to shake from the effort.

"Don't be a fool, Tulio. Your mind has been touched, the seeds have been sown. I have had enough dealings with fate to know not to leave any loose ends in my wake, lest they trip me up later. Soul Edge shall be mine, and mine alone, and I shall destroy all who oppose me!" As Tulio's horrified crew watched, Cervantes lowered him back onto his feet. Tulio let out a piteous sob, and Cervantes leaned his head still closer.

"Even if you weren't affected, I would have done this," he said menacingly, smiling again. "For I wouldn't want you warning your men they were about to become Soul Edge's next meal." And, with a great roar, Cervantes hurled the man into the air. He glimpsed Tulio's terrified face as he became weightless, still gasping for breath, as he realized the meaning of the other pirate's last words to him. Cervantes thrust his cutlass upwards to intercept the falling man-

The men watching aboard the _Ocean Runner_ and the _Adrian_ fell silent, as the captain fell onto the blade with a satisfying smack. The tip poked through the back of his coat slightly, from which blood spurted violently. Tulio's face was twisted in pain; he had died the instant the steel entered his spine. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose, and ran down his gaunt face. Cervantes jerked his sword out from Tulio's corpse, which fell to the ground and began bleeding from the chest too. Bending down, he unfastened the green coat from the body and removed it quickly, before it became stained too horribly. Straightening up as though he had done nothing more than lace his boots, he shouted to those under his leadership. "Raise the anchors, men! We set sail immediately!"

Jumping to attention, the crew of the _Adrian_ began preparing the ship to go to sea. They yelled commands to each other, acting from years of experience, obeying their captain's order with eagerness. Nudging the lifeless body of Tulio with his foot, Cervantes then addressed the now-leaderless pirates of the _Ocean Runner_. "That goes for you lot as well," he shouted to the shocked men across the dock. "I'm your captain now! Follow my commands, or you'll end up like this sorry fool!" He kicked the corpse again, harder this time, and it rolled off the dock into the water.

Wiping his bloody cutlass on the soggy wood, Cervantes was pleased to see the other crew scurrying across the deck of the _Ocean Runner_. With two ships under his command, he thought, nothing could get between himself and his goal. Chuckling grimly to himself, Cervantes pulled the bloody green coat over his shoulders and stared through the mouth of the cave to the sunset. The old fisherman was silhouetted by orange light, bobbing in his small boat, headed out into the open sea alone.

"Captain," the first mate called, from the bow of the _Adrian_, "are you ready to come aboard?"

"Yes," Cervantes said, almost to himself. "Yes, I am ready. I am finally ready." He turned, and walked toward the gangplank leading up to the ship. I have found you at last, he thought. I am coming, do you hear me, Soul Edge? I am ready!

I know I completely changed the mood with this edit, not as suspenseful, and something may be lost, but I hated the idea of splitting it up. If anyone is seriously grieved, let me know in a review and I'll post both. However, I feel that extending the chapter to here is best because I feel strongly against short chapters that do not have anything significant in them. Also, I appreciate suggestions for the story style, ie. what I write next. Should I follow timeline, or something else? Please, please review. Preferably make them like EvilYardGnome's, that one made my day. BTW, I adjusted my settings to accept unsigned reviews, so if it seemed like I was shutting you out please try again. I've also decided not to give chapter previews. Till next we meet, mortal!


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